Cry
by Juxtaposie
Summary: As the delicate balance of her home life comes crashing down around her, Shizuru Kuwabara will find an outlet through the one thing she has denied herself for over ten years: tears.
1. Prelude

I am not a child now.  
I can take care of myself.  
I mustn't let them down now-  
Mustn't let them see me cry.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

I'm too tired to listen.  
I'm too old to believe  
All these childish stories.  
There is no such thing as faith,  
And trust,  
And pixie dust.

****

Cry - Prelude

It is general fan consensus on ff.net that Kazuma and Shizuru Kuwabara have not had the easiest of lives. Now think, if things had been bad for Kazuma, what must they have been like for Shizuru? This work is my endeavor to answer that question. Enjoy, and please review.

Shizuru Kuwabara had not had what one would call a happy life. Every psychologist on the planet would have considered her childhood, which she never felt she needed to speak to anyone about, traumatic and damaging, both mentally and physically. She worked from noon to 9:00 PM six days a week, was hopelessly addicted to cigarettes, and received only one selfless compassionate hug a year (this hug was always given by her younger brother on the anniversary of their mother's death). The pleasures she derived in life were simple: nicotine, a good matinee at the theatre every other week, and the knowledge that she had only just turned 23 and had managed to raise a relatively well-adjusted child.

Shizuru had learned long ago that _everything _was easier to deal with if one was not emotionally related to the situation in any way. When she was eleven (the first time her father had hit her) she began to clamp down on every feeling she possessed. She would cry only three times before she turned 23: when her mother died, when her father had first hit Kazuma, and when she had realized she was in love with a man she couldn't possibly carry a relationship with.

It is needless to say that Shizuru was due for some serious volcanic movement in the emotional department. Simple, quiet tears would not satisfy this need. No, Shizuru needed to sob, scream, and wail until all the pain, anger and depression had gone from her body. Deep down, she knew this. Deep down, there was a little girl who wanted nothing more than to be held and rocked while she cried. Shizuru didn't like this little girl, but she could do no more about it than she could about her father.

Her father was perhaps the one reason she hated this little girl the most, because this little girl was afraid of the man named Kazuo. She froze in terror at the mere mention of his name, and then curled up in the back corner of Shizuru's mind, wailing and screaming and trembling in absolute dread and panic. This little girl also believed that her father could change, that her father still loved her enough to see the error of his ways. She still wanted her daddy to tuck her in and kiss her goodnight, and turn on the nightlight for Kazuma, 'cause he was such a baby sometimes…

But those hopes were gone. They had been dashed to pieces long ago, and nothing could make Shizuru believe that her father could ever be a good man… Her father, whom she never wanted to see again for as long as she lived…the very last person she expected to show up at their apartment on Kazuma's seventeenth birthday.


	2. Act One

I try

But it's so hard to believe

I try

But I can't see what you see

I try, I try, I try…

My whole world is changing

I don't know where to turn

I can't leave you waiting,

But I can't stay and watch the city burn

Watch it burn…

****

Cry - First Act

Shizuru had just finished loading eight very full glasses of soda onto a tray when the doorbell rang. Carrying the tray out into the hallway with her, she called "The door's open!" thinking it was Botan - who had yet to turn up to Kazuma's birthday party- and continued toward the living room. She could hear her brother and Yusuke's raucous laughter, followed by a rather indignant yelp from Hiei, which ended in a snarl.

This was enough to distract Shizuru from the fact that though the door had opened, no cheery greeting was issued. She heard feet by the door, but not the quick, happy feet that Botan possessed.

A deep, hesitant, all too familiar voice called after her, "Shizuru?" and she froze.

The tray fell, clattering to the floor as her arms went limp in sudden terror. All eight glasses shattered, splashing soda over the walls and tiles. Kazuma stuck his head around the doorframe, but barley glanced at her as he caught sight of the intruder. Shizuru's looked up at her younger brother, but she doubted he even knew she was there at that moment: Kazuma's eyes were locked on the man who stood in the doorway.

Straightening, subconsciously pulling herself up to her full height, fists clenched and heart pounding, Shizuru turned to meet her father.

It always scared her how much the man looked like Kazuma. They were exact duplicates: down to the heavy build, and curling hair. The one difference was that Kazuma's hair was the same startlingly bright shade of orange that had been so becoming on their mother. Unaware of the movement, Shizuru pushed a strand of her own brown hair behind her ear. It always irked her that she shared a common physical trait with a man she hated: her hair was the same soft shade of brown.

Kazuo Kuwabara looked embarrassed and slightly shamed as he stood, hands in his pockets, looking down at his shoes. He glanced up at Shizuru, swallowed visibly, and opened his mouth as if to speak.

Shizuru beat him to it.

"What do you want?" she asked, barely keeping the quiver out of her voice. The fear was quickly turning to barely contained rage.

Kazuo took a step back, then said softly, "I… I just thought that…"

"You thought what?!" Shizuru demanded loudly, unaware of the small crowd that was gathering behind her.

"It's Kazuma's birthday," Kazuo said, his tone still soft, as if he were treading by den of a wildcat. "I wanted to take the two of you out to dinner later…"

Shizuru let out a short, bitter laugh at this.

"Please," he pleaded, opening his arms to her in placation. She had to resist the urge to take a step back. She refused to let him frighten her. "I just want to the see the two of you! It's been awhi-"

"I've got a restraining order, would you like to see that?!" Shizuru yelled, unable to contain herself longer.

"Honey, people can change," Kazuo said softly, his eyes beginning to harden. "_I_ changed."

"This sure hasn't!" Shizuru said, pulling up the left sleeve of her shirt to indicate a long, pink scar just above her elbow. It had come from the glass table she'd been pushed into when she was 13. "You're pleading with the wrong woman here, Kazuo! You beat any compassion I might have had for you right outta me the first time you hit me!"

"Shizuru, if you'd just listen for a minute-"

"Get out of my house," she interrupted quietly, staring at the soda that was quickly soaking into the carpet at her feet.

"Shizuru, please," he said taking a step toward her.

"I SAID GET OUT!" she screamed, throat tearing painfully. Rushing forwards, she shoved the much larger man out the door and slammed it after him, sliding the dead bolt in place. Then she put her back to the door and began to hyperventilate.

The air rushed in and out of her lungs in quick, shallow breaths. The world began to spin, and her knees began to shake. She was swimming through a pool of thick darkness, slowly drowning as she took in more oxygen than her brain could handle.

A gentle hand on her shoulder jerked her out of her stupor. She looked up and met the eyes of her baby brother; he was frightened, she could tell, but whether for her or of their father she didn't know. Kurama stood behind him, trying to coax her into taking long, deep breaths. She heard his voice distantly, as though she were going deaf.

Shrugging off the hand and pushing past Kurama, she fled to the bathroom down the hall, closed the door behind her, and locked it.

Then she unlocked it, stormed back down the hall, and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of her coat, which was hanging by the door. She fled back to the bathroom, away from the prying, questioning eyes of her brother and his friends.

When the bathroom door was closed and locked Shizuru sat down on the cool tiles, and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill.

__

Stop it, Shizuru thought angrily, taking another drag. _Stop acting so fucking childish! You have no reason to be afraid of him! He can't hurt you. He can't hurt Kazuma. So stop it! Stop crying!_

And just like that, she was under control. Almost

She would smoke 3 and a half cigarettes in less than ten minutes, in a vain attempt to chase away the shaking nerves that had taken root in her arms and legs.

Making a split-second decision, determined that she would sleep peacefully in her bed tonight, even if it killed her, Shizuru rose on shaking legs. She put the cigarettes and lighter into her pocket, splashed some cold water on her face, and unlocked the bathroom door.

Out in the hallway Keiko was helping Kazuma mop up the spilled soda. When the bathroom door opened, they both looked up at her, their eyes like those of deer caught in headlights, and Shizuru had the dismal, unsettling feeling that their hushed whispers had been about her. Kazuma's guilty look as he stood hastily did nothing to help the situation.

"Shizuru," he said, his voice just a little too quiet. "I… I was thinking…"

Keiko stared culpably at the carpet.

"I'm going out," Shizuru interrupted her brother's weak stammering. "The pizza should be here soon. Money's on the kitchen counter." She grabbed her coat and pulled it on, and took a set of keys out of the pocket. "Happy Birthday, Kazuma," she said, giving him a small, sad smile. "Sorry about the carpet, Keiko," she threw over her shoulder as she turned. "Let Kazuma do that, you're a guest."

She turned from them, unbolted the front door, and stepped out into the hallway. She looked both ways, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding as she realized that Kazuo Kuwabara was nowhere to be seen, and headed down the hall to the elevator. Halfway to the elevator she grew nervous and decided to take the stairs instead. She took them two at a time, nearly tripping over herself in her haste to be away from the building.

She spied her father in the lobby, making a call on a payphone, his back to her.

__

He'll never see you run, the little girl in her head said fearfully. _He'll never know you're afraid. And you ARE afraid..._

Shut up! Shizuru thought angrily, giving the little girl a viscous shove into the back of her mind, and walking calmly across the lobby floor as if nothing were amiss. She had to ignore the painful throb of her heart as it threatened to beat out of her chest.

The bench at the bus stop was unoccupied, which was not unusual for this time of evening. She took a seat and waited patiently for the bus, smoking another cigarette to pass the time.

As the bus came over the horizon, trundling slowly up the slight incline of the street, Shizuru cursed the person who decided smoking should be banned on busses and put out her cigarette.

She climbed aboard the bus, paid the fee, and took a seat near the front.

She transferred routes two times, slowly working her way out of the city, and into the mountains. The ride was long, as usual, though not boring, which was very unusual. This trip was almost always taken as ceremony, and one that Shizuru tried not to think on too much for the pain it brought.

She was in an unusually contemplative mood, her thoughts centering on the one person whose absence in her life she regretted above all others: her mother. Aiko Kuwabara (aptly named, for she was greatly loved by all her knew her) had been a gentle, beautiful woman. She was impossibly young for the life she had chosen (she would have been only 40 had she been alive), but she had never regretted that she had stayed with her children to the bitter, cruel end. She had died of leukemia just 2 days before Shizuru's 13th birthday.

Shizuru remembered this birthday better than any day in her life, because her gift had been a new (black) dress to wear to her mother's funeral. At that point in time she had still been in shock, and did not realize until later in the evening (after she had shredded the dress with scissors and nearly burnt her room in attempt to be rid of the damnable thing) what a completely cruel gift it had been. That night something inside her had snapped, and it would take three years of vicious self-destruction to mend her broken spirit. During those three years of her life Shizuru would commit every possible sin under the sun short of rape, murder and manslaughter. If any of her acts had ever been repeated in the company she kept now, she would most certainly have moved away in shame.

Shizuru was rubbing absently at a small scar on her upper arm (obtained from a straying needle) when the bus jolted to a halt.

The driver turned back to her and said, "This is the last stop, miss. You getting off?"

Shizuru looked around, realizing that she was alone on the bus, and nodded to the driver.

He tipped his hat at her as she exited. The doors swung shut behind her, and the bus started off again with another shuddering halt.

She watched it trundle off over the horizon, before turning to stare at the small copse of trees behind her. Her mother waited on the other side of those trees, down a little path, just beyond a set of steps and an iron fence, whose gate was rusting in it's hinges.

__

Unless someone's oiled it, she though offhandedly.

Not likely. The gate had creaked for as long as Shizuru could remember.

Noting without interest the orange and purple sunset, Shizuru put her hands in her coat pockets and started up the trail.

The path was overgrown now, green vegetation hanging this way, and clinging that. The dirt, which had once been smooth and beaten, now shifted under her feet, and there, just around the next turn, were the steps, grass and weeds springing from their numerous cracks. The trees cleared, allowing the dead a full view of the sky as they lay in their graves. The gate still creaked, rusted red as blood. It was as cold as… death. The metal bit into her fingers, and she hurried to take her hands off it.

Thirty-seven steps would carry her to her mother's resting-place. She had counted last year, and the year before, and every year since Aiko had been laid to rest.

Thirty-seven steps on the nose, and she stood at the foot of a grave. Dead stems and brown, withered petals littered the ground around the gravestone. In the summer wild delphinium and scarlet flax would spring up from the ground, covering the old, grey stone in bright reds and oranges.

"Mom would like this," Kazuma had said after he'd finished helping her plant the seeds. "This place is so… cheerless. She'd like the bright colors."

"She looked so good in red," Shizuru had murmured in response, dusting off the knees of her pants as she stood.

That had been almost five years ago. It had been a blessing to know that the wildflowers they had planted had taken root. They would bloom annually, now, for as long as the grave stood, or maybe even longer. Each summer their vibrant, flame-like colors would blaze across Aiko's grave, forever warming her resting-place.

The stems were dead now. They were crushed into the ground as Shizuru knelt in front of the headstone. Her fingers, numb and uncharacteristically gentle, traced the Kanji of her mother's name, eyes trailing down to read the simple inscription: "Those who knew her were the better that she lived."

"I…I know I don't usually come visit you during the winter," Shizuru began softly, pressing her forehead against the cold stone and closing her eyes. "I just needed… I needed some comfort, and I didn't know what else to do."

She opened her eyes, and looked up into the swiftly fading daylight.

"Just let me be here for awhile, let me rest."

Turning and leaning back against the grave marker, Shizuru pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her head in her arms. "I'm so tired, Mama," she whispered. "I'm exhausted. I've been fighting him since you were sick… He just keeps pushing. I can't push back anymore. I'm not strong enough."

__

Oh, my baby… she could almost hear her mother murmur. _There there, my love. It's all right. Don't cry now, I'm here…_

But you aren't! the little girl screamed._ And it's not all right! It's NEVER been all right!_

"I won't cry," Shizuru said to herself, the words infused with false strength. "I won't, I won't, I won't…"

****

End Act One


	3. Interlude

**Cry - Interlude**

"Shizuru, honey, its time to get up."

Groaning in frustration, Shizuru rolled over and pulled her pillow over her head.

"Shizuru?" her mother called gently, shaking her shoulder. "You need to wake up, darling. I have to talk to you."

Those words always meant trouble, and Shizuru new better than to disobey her mother. Pulling her head out from under her pillow, Shizuru yawned, stretched, and ran her fingers through her tangled hair, waiting for her mother to speak.

Taking a calming breath, Aiko sat down on the edge of her daughter's bed. She smoothed out her skirt, ran a hand through her own hair (which was as pin-straight as her daughter's) and cleared her throat softly.

"What's wrong, Mom?" Shizuru asked, sitting up and resting her cheek on her mother's shoulder.

Aiko turned to look at her oldest child, and Shizuru was struck by how much older her mother appeared. It was as if she had aged ten years over night. Her eyes were the same, velvety brown as ever, the same eyes Shizuru saw in the mirror every morning, but there were lines around them that Shizuru did not remember. She seemed delicate, as if the cancer was still eating her away… _Cancer? Why would she be sick?_

Shizuru blinked, and the memories came flooding back.

She was not ten years old, Aiko was not alive, Kazuma wasn't shorter than her, and Daddy…

Shizuru drew back from her mother with a strangled gasp, pushing herself up against the headboard. Aiko turned to her, those gentle eyes imploring her to calm and listen.

"Mom?" Shizuru prompted, the word feeling strange, foreign on her tongue.

Aiko sighed, and looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. Nervously twisting her wedding ring, she took a breath and looked her daughter in the eye.

"Give him another chance," Aiko said softly.

It took Shizuru's brain a few moments to comprehend whom her mother was speaking of, but when she understood she felt a deep, constricting pain in her chest.

"You not taking his side!" Shizuru burst out in disbelief, fisting her hands in the blankets.

Aiko looked at the ground.

"Mom?!"

"Shizuru, people can change…"

_HE_ had said the exact same thing…

"Listen to me, baby," Aiko said, grabbing her daughter's hands and forcing herself to look Shizuru in the eye. "Good people make mistakes, but it doesn't mean they aren't good people."

Shizuru tried to pull her hands away, but could not break from Aiko's desperate, quickly tightening grasp. She tried in vain to close her ears to the truth ringing in her mother's words.

"He made a mistake, honey," Aiko continued. "A really big mistake, but you can't tell me you haven't made some of those too. He can still be a good man. It's just taken him some time to realize it. He's trying to make things better."

"I don't want things better!" Shizuru exclaimed, now clutching to her mother's hands. "I want things like they were! I want you there to cook in the morning, 'cause I always burn the toast, and I don't want to have to worry about whether or not Kazu's passing geometry, and I want to be able to remember my father and not think about what a total dick-"

Aiko scowled at that word, and Shizuru had the grace to blush. The harsh look softened, and Aiko pulled Shizuru into a tight hug, which Shizuru returned fervently.

"Baby, I know this is tearing you up, but you've got to give him another chance."

Shizuru closed her eyes, leaned into her mother's embrace and said, "I don't want to. He hurt me, Mama. He hurt Kazu. How can I trust him again?"

"You'll learn to, Shizuru," Aiko answered, stroking her daughter's hair. "It'll take time, but you'll learn. Your father is a good man. He just needs a chance to prove it to you again. Give him a chance, baby, and you'll see."

Shizuru yawned against her mother's shoulder.

"I should let you sleep," Aiko said suddenly, her arms tightening around Shizuru. "You should really go to bed earlier, sweetheart, you're not getting enough rest."

"I'm fine, Mom," Shizuru reassured.

"A mother can tell when her child is lying."

"Don't I know it," Shizuru murmured, thinking of all the times she had managed to catch Kazuma in a lie.

"Go on and close your eyes, honey. I'll stay here until you're asleep," Aiko said softly, pushing Shizuru back down into the pillows, and pulling the blankets up around her.

"I love you, Mom," Shizuru said suddenly, feeling for all the world as if she would never be able to say it again.

"I love you too, honey, and Kazu. You be sure and let him now for me," Aiko intoned, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead.

Brushing back Shizuru's bangs, Aiko said softly, "You've grown into such a pretty woman."

Then she added as an afterthought, "You should date more."

Shizuru grimaced.

"And stop smoking. No one wants to kiss an ashtray."

"Alright, Mom. I get it!"

****

End Interlude


	4. Act Two

I try

But it's so hard to believe

I try

But I can't see what you see

I try, I try

I try and try

To understand

The distance in between

The love I feel,

And the things I fear

And every single dream…

**Cry - Second Act

* * *

**

It was very dark and _very_ cold when Shizuru awoke. A thin layer of frost had settled over the ground, encrusting everything in a diamond-like shell so that it glistened in the light of the half moon. There was frost on her eyelashes and in her hair. The ground was hard and cold beneath her aching back, and her nose, toes, and fingers had gone numb.

Shizuru didn't move. She couldn't. Her mother was here, in some form or fashion, and for the first time in many years Shizuru felt almost complete.

Daddy was the only thing missing.

Shizuru glanced at her watch as she stood. It was almost 11:00. She grimaced at the time, cracked her back, and attempted to regain some feeling in her fingers as she made her way back down the path.

She looked back only once, and promised herself that she would come and visit more often, for her own peace of mind.

As beaten ground gave way to black asphalt, Shizuru was mildly and pleasantly surprised to see that the bus was waiting for her. She climbed aboard, smiled at the driver, the same man who had tipped his hat at her, and took a seat catty-corner to him.

When the bus driver noticed her playing with her carton of cigarettes, he chuckled and said " Honey, ain't no one gonna be on this bus this late. If you'll be kind enough to lend me one I'll be kind enough to not tell anyone you was smokin' on my bus."

The bus driver opened his little window, and Shizuru handed him a lit cigarette. She lit one for herself, took a long, calming drag, and chatted amiably with the driver.

His name was Niko. He had a son and daughter, both a little older than her, and both in graduate school. His wife was visiting her mother, and no, it was no problem: he would prefer to drive her all the way home. He was off the clock, and nice young ladies like her shouldn't walk around Tokyo late at night.

So he talked about his wife and kids, and she talked about her brother, his loser friends, and all the money and time they cost her.

"Yo' too young to be worryin' 'bout another chile." Niko said, adjusting his rear view mirror. "But ya seem to have done well enough on y'own."

Shizuru smiled sadly to herself and murmured "Yeah," as she looked out the window.

* * *

Shizuru made her way quietly through the halls of her apartment building. The harsh white lighting made her head hurt, and she couldn't wait to climb into her own bed and fall asleep.

She fumbled for her keys, making no attempt at silence as she entered the apartment. If Kazuma were asleep, she wouldn't be able to wake him. He slept like the dead.

She dropped her keys and cigarettes on the side table by the door, and hung her coat up on the hooks. She slipped out of her shoes, curling her toes to make them warmer, and made her way to the kitchen. The light of the TV shone brilliantly out of the living room. All other lights had been shut off.

Pouring herself a glass of Coke, Shizuru went to her room, put on her old flannel pajamas, and returned to the living room.

Kazuma was there, sitting on the floor, staring raptly at the screen. There was a young girl, leading a toddler toward the sprinkler on a wet, green lawn. The baby boy's red hair stuck up at odd angles, and the girl laughed happily as he stumbled forward. She swept him off his feet - no easy task, for he was a rather large young thing - and planted a loud, wet kiss on his cheek.

"Oh God," Shizuru murmured, slumping down on the couch as this memory came flying back to her: it had been unusually hot that summer. Her mother had gotten Kazuo a video camera for his birthday, and he was testing it out that day.

Then the camera panned out, and there was Aiko, sitting in a white plastic recliner. She was small, and pretty in her yellow sundress, and she smiled brightly at her husband before removing her sunglasses and blowing him a kiss.

"Where did you get this?" Shizuru growled menacingly at her little brother.

Kazuma didn't even register the question. He was fixated by the image of his mother. His own memories of her were fading, growing fuzzier with each year that passed. The bright yellow of her sundress awoke other memories: a pair of canary yellow heels she just adored. She'd worn them to dinner once, and daddy'd had to carry her to the car when they were done, because her feet were killing her.

"Where did you get this, Kazuma!"

Shizuru was angry now. She never called his name to his face unless she was mad.

He finally tore his gaze away form the TV screen. Shizuru looked livid. Her fists were white where they clutched the couch cushion.

Kazuma stared at her dumbly for a minute, not sure what to say.

"Where!" she reiterated, rising to turn off the TV. The images brought back too many confusing emotions, things she hadn't felt in a long, long time.

"He… He had a birthday present for me," Kazuma mumbled, uncharacteristically shy as he reached under the coffee table to pull out a shoebox. He sat down on the couch and motioned for her to join him, as if loath to remove anything form the box.

"That video was in it," he added. "There are a few others, and some photos and ticket-stubs and stuff."

With shaking limbs Shizuru sat down beside her brother. Trembling hands reached into the box and drew out a pile of photographs; Shizuru holding baby Kazuma, who did not look at all happy to be away from his mother, who was smiling in the background, Aiko resting her cheek in Kazuma's head as he slept on her shoulder. Photo after photo of forgotten happy moments, things that Shizuru didn't want to remember, because they made her want to cry for what was lost.

Halfway through the pile was the one that did it. It was of Shizuru and Kazuo. She was young and smiling, and her little pink dress was decorated with lace frills and rosettes. She was sitting on her daddy's lap, and he was kissing her cheek in an over-exaggerated manner. He was smiling too. The back was labeled, in a small neat script she knew to be her mother's, "Daddy's girl on her 5th birthday."

The unfamiliar, unpleasant feeling of tears began to prick at the back of Shizuru's eyes, so she closed them.

It didn't do a damn thing. She could still see herself, smiling and happy and trusting, on his lap like some little angel.

_You were my whole world_, she thought angrily to herself, wadding up the picture and flinging it across the room._ I was just a child! You were supposed to take care of me when she died! You were supposed to take care of both of us!_

Kazuma didn't know what to do, so he just kept leafing through the photos. He found one that made him want to chuckle, so he shoved it under his sister's nose, hoping it would make her feel better.

Shizuru took one look at the four cake-covered faces smiling back at her and burst into tears. Great, quaking sobs broke forth from a mouth whose pain had been silent for so long. She pulled her knees up to her chest, buried her head in her arms, and cried. Hot, salty tears burned her face, dripping down onto her arms and the sofa. Her chest ached.

Kazuma didn't know what to do, so he put the photos back in their box and hugged his sister.

"What the hell was going through his mind?" Shizuru choked out, laying her head on his shoulder. "We were just kids! We were helpless, and - and scared, and what does he go and do? He starts wailing on us like it's his God-given right!

"I was so scared of him," she whispered, curling herself into a ball in the circle of her brother's arms. "I could handle being hit, that never scared me, but… but watching him hit-"

"Be quiet Shizuru," Kazuma ordered gently, arms tightening around her. "Just be quiet and cry… You're getting my shirt wet."

**End Act Two**

* * *

AN: So i hope y'all like it... it's almost over, just the epilogue left! yay! 


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